


The Room Calls; We Were Waiting

by LonelyGodsMuse



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Episode AU: s06e11 The God Complex, Gen, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8483440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyGodsMuse/pseuds/LonelyGodsMuse
Summary: Stiles and the Doctor are trapped in the hotel in "The God Complex" where there is a door for everyone.  There's a pull, there's a door, there's an unfinished game.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone. I know that this is perhaps not the update anyone was looking for. I have been struggling a lot these last few months both with my everyday life and with writing. I do hope that I will be able to get to update APSAG soon--I have everything in my head but when I attempt to write it out, everything seems to fall apart. I've written this piece to hopefully jumpstart the process of writing again. Please enjoy and as always, any comments are welcome. Hope you are all doing well!

The hotel halls stretched seemingly forever. The yellow walls and the red carpet and the yellow-white doors with their numbers adorned, seemingly endless. The Doctor had already run off shouting at Stiles to stay put. Stiles could no longer hear his voice ricocheting through the empty halls nor the sounds his footfalls made as he raced forward and out of sight.

Never one for listening but always known for being curious--a trait the Doctor had admitted to loving, Stiles began to follow in the Doctor’s footsteps at a slower pace. He didn’t need to run anywhere and if the Doctor was indeed going to retrace his footsteps, then they would run into each other soon enough--why make the distance longer than it needed to be?

Stiles walked on, the hallway as silent as ever, the doors as nondescript as before and the hotel just as empty. Stiles was alone. He wasn’t worried that the Doctor had left him behind--even if he had, Stiles had no doubt he would be able to make it out of the hotel. Whether he would want to in the end or not wasn’t really the concern at the moment.

The lack of adrenaline and the call of adventure singing through his veins had Stiles’ mind looking inwards. The solitude was choking. Even when he was alone in his room in the Tardis, Stiles knew he wasn’t alone. Now, he was aware of the fact that the rooms surrounding him were undoubtedly filled with people and whatever embodied their greatest fears but those people were unresponsive, unreachable.

Stiles’ mind latched onto the silence and the solitude, dragging Stiles’ psyche back into the warzone that was his mind now. The memories of the Nogitsune and the atrocities he had committed under its sway, the nightmares he had been suffering from, and the flashing images of Donovan’s death and Scott’s betrayal were bombarding him making his breaths shorten into gasps for oxygen.

Throwing his body to the right, into one of the doors, Stiles slid to the ground clutching his head and his chest directly over his heart. Stiles first began by trying to draw in large gasping breaths trying to make himself regulate his breathing. Once the gasps began to even out minimally, Stiles removed his left hand that was previously clutching the locks of his longer hair and the right from its clutching at his chest, he pulled his hands to the front of his face and began to count them aloud.

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

The breath of relief gusted out of his mouth and he slumped against the door behind him trying to calm his racing heart. After a few moments of collecting himself, Stiles used his right hand to steady himself against the door he was previously leaning against as he attempted to stand. As he began to rise, his hand hit the small, brass door handle bringing his attention upwards.

Seeing the number on the plate affixed to the door had Stiles frozen in place, blinking once, twice, three times in an attempt to remove the image standing before him. The door is just like the others--yellow and inconspicuous, surrounded on all sides by that god-awful pink and off-white wallpaper. The only thing setting is apart was the number on the plate bolted onto the door.

24

Stiles’ lacrosse jersey number was staring right back at him. It would be easy for Stiles to write off the appearance of the number and the door entirely as simply what was expected for a hotel--of course there would be a room with the number 24, nothing odd about that, no sir!

If only it weren’t for the pull, the tugging that Stiles felt from within himself that directed him to the door, unconsciously had his right hand reach for the palm sized brass knob that would allow him entry. Stiles’ mind began to blank as he focused intently on the door before him. He knew that to enter the door would be tantamount to death but that realization held no sway for him. He didn’t like to admit it aloud, let alone to himself, that the idea of death no longer held power over him. He had heard a quote once that had mentioned people needing to fear death or else they would have no love for life. Something like that. The memory was slipping into the silence. Stiles felt almost like he was wading into a deep lake, the waves rippling over his form as he steadily makes his way through to the center. Nothing around him but the water, the calming, enticing water drifting around him.

Stiles hadn’t even realized his hand had begun to turn the doorknob until he heard a soft click the resistance he had been feeling from the closed door had begun to give as the door had started to slowly open for him. Taking a deep breath once more, Stiles began to push into the room under his own power.

The room was brighter than the outside hallway. Bright, electric white which temporarily blinded Stiles. Opening his eyes once more, Stiles looked around before a wry smile twisted his lips.

“Of course”. The words pass quietly yet resignedly from his bitten lips, “What else?”

Instead of taking a step backwards out of the room and closing the door silently like Stiles pictured the Doctor doing in his situation, he instead stepped inside the room even more, shutting the door silently behind him. Looking away from the closed door, Stiles turned once more to the room to take in what lay before him--his greatest fear, or so the moniker of the hotel claimed.

Everything was just how he remembered it. The floors and the walls and the ceiling were all a blinding, clinical white that reflected the insane amount of light being put out by the lights overhead. The room was like the hallway outside--endless. As Stiles’ vision spanned the room he could see that approaching what could be the middle of the space, the white tiles were upended, cracked, broken by something breaking through the surface leading to a large object that appeared to sprout from the very foundations of the room.

Stiles stepped away from the solid form of the door and began his journey towards the supposed center--towards the large object. The memories of everything outside of the space were slipping Stiles’ mind but he knew instinctively what exactly was waiting for him when he reached his destination.

He stepped around the emerging roots and mutilated tiles that littered his pathway, making his way ever closer to the Nemeton stump. As he got closer, he realized that there was a figure sitting upon it. Stiles’ heart squeezed tightly but he continued forward still.

The figure was exactly how he recalled him. Kneeling upon his right knee with his left left leg bent so he could rest his left, heavily bandaged arm upon it. The figure was clad in brown khakis and a brown leather jacket with heavy brown boots adorning his feet. His face and hands were still heavily bandaged obscuring his features but Stiles knew exactly who was under those wrappings.

The Nogitsune was facing Stiles, watching him as he slowly meandered his way towards where he was waiting for him. The Goh board was set out in front of the Nogitsune with the position directly across from him empty--waiting for Stiles.

Stiles clambered his way upon the magical tree stump and settled himself sans grace, in the opposing position. Looking at the game board, he realized that the pieces were exactly how they had been before Stiles had swiped the board when Scott and Lydia had rescued him the first time. There would be no rescue this time Stiles knew. The Doctor was too far and by now wouldn’t even know where to find him. His friends were years and miles and worlds away. He wondered belatedly if he could even still call them that after everything that had happened before the Doctor had come to take him to see the universe.

Shaking the thoughts away, Stiles refocused himself on the board and slowly raised his head to look up at the Nogitsune. The silver, jagged teeth were still pressed into the yellowing fabric making the creature before him look garish but Stiles had no patience for the theatricality that the Nogitsune loved so.

“Why don’t you take off the mask? I think it’s time we see each other a little better. Don’t you?” Stiles bored tone rippled through the otherwise silent room.

The smile on the Nogitsune’s face widened into a smirk as the bandaged hands rose to begin unraveling the previously hidden face. Stiles’ face remained blank as he watched the growing pile of discarded bandaged grow as the face was starting to be revealed--flattened dark brown hair, pale flesh, full pink lips, and finally, the entirety of his face.

Stiles had never seen the creature divest itself of its’ adornments but watching it had been fascinating and when the final outcome was revealed, Stiles found himself oddly settled. He had known whose face was below the facade but seeing it be actively revealed before his very eyes seemed to loosen something within him.

The face gazing back at him was his own yet it was not. The eyes, Stiles’ amber/whiskey color yet the eyes were flat, darker than Stiles’. _Or perhaps they match now_ , Stiles mused.

The smirk still adorned his double’s face as his lips parted, “We’ve missed you Stiles. We never finished our game.”

Stiles looked at his double silently, unmoved by his words.

The smirk enlarged into a satisfied smile as the Nogitsune rearranged himself until he was mirroring Stiles’ seated position. He leans forward slightly to push one of his white tiles forward, making the first move. “You cannot see me, hear me, or touch me. I lie behind the stars and alter what is real, I am what you really fear. Close your eyes and I come near. What am I?”

Stiles pushed a black tile forward countering the Nogitsune’s move. He looked into the Nogitsune’s face blankly, “The dark.”

The smirk became pleased. “Useful tool for who in darkness dwell. Within you, corrupting like a deadly spell. What am I?”

“Poison.”

“A nightmare for some. For others, a savior I come. My hands, cold and bleak, it’s the warm hearts they seek. What am I?”

Stiles looked up at his double, into his eyes and spoke, “Death.”

The figure in front of Stiles looked directly into Stiles’ eyes. “Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?”

Looking directly into the Nogitsune’s eyes, as he moves a black tile forward once more, Stiles’ lips lift into a dark, twisted smirk, his eyes flaring golden and dark with their hidden power, “A shadow.”


End file.
